Every Day Quotes June
by MissJayne
Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles about our favourite characters. One quote per day.
1. Jun 1

Every Day Quotes: June

_**Jun 1  
**_A smile is the shortest distance between two people.  
**Victor Borge (1909 - 2000)**

Jennifer Shepard stood on the catwalk and watched Gibbs' team.

She had a rare five minutes with nothing to do. Her paperwork was temporarily up to date, she had no meeting in her office and she was not due in MTAC for another half an hour. A certain Supervisory Agent had not assaulted a reporter and left her to deal with the aftermath. There were no phone calls to make, no agents to supervise and her diary was completely organized for the next month.

However much she knew it would fall apart the moment one senator decided to change his appointment with her on a whim.

But for now, she was content to watch Gibbs' team go about their daily business. She observed as Tony said something snarky to Ziva, who retaliated by throwing a stapler at his head, hitting her target spectacularly. As Tony whimpered in pain, McGee and Ziva giggled at his stupidity.

The great man himself ignored his team's childish antics and focused on the report in front of him. Until Tony either collapsed or complained too loudly, or his team stopped working (she had to admit they were doing a sterling job in continuing with their paperwork despite the banter), he would act as though they weren't there.

He looked up and caught her in the act of observing him. She shot him a smile. He smiled back. There was nothing that needed to be said.


	2. Jun 2

_**Jun 2  
**_If you don't get what you want, you suffer; if you get what you don't want, you suffer; even when you get exactly what you want, you still suffer because you can't hold on to it forever. Your mind is your predicament. It wants to be free of change. Free of pain, free of the obligations of life and death. But change is a law, and no amount of pretending will alter that reality.  
**Dan Millman**, _The Way of the Peaceful Warrior_

Ziva David knew that the world would never be exactly the way she wanted.

Everyone wished the world to be slightly different to their neighbor and it was impossible to satisfy everyone. And anyway, she did not wish to live in what some people would consider a perfect world. Perhaps it was better that it was impossible to change the entire world to suit one person, however much some people dreamed and tried.

The world was an awkward place, full of bizarre rules that messed people around and caused endless problems. But that was part of the challenge of life and the best option was to go with it.

This did not mean she was not above trying to change things. The difference was that she picked her battles. Some she would never win, so she did not waste the energy. Others were just as impossible, but needed to be tackled, despite it being like a grain of sand attacking the ocean, because they were fundamentally wrong and not fighting the battle was akin to agreeing with an injustice. Others required time and patience to win, and she was prepared for the long haul.

Reality was not something to be fought against, but something to be accepted. And sometimes it was necessary to change a reality, in which case Ziva was ready to fight.


	3. Jun 3

_**Jun 3  
**_What you don't see with your eyes, don't invent with your mouth.  
**Jewish Proverb**

Timothy McGee would never understand some witnesses, no matter how long he lived.

He understood the psychology behind eyewitnesses. Some could not recall anything, regardless of the time and energy put into it. Some simply did not wish to remember. Then there were some who couldn't remember everything correctly, such as the times he ended up with two conflicting colors of a car, with both sets of witnesses prepared to swear in court that it had definitely been that color, and couldn't possibly be another.

He knew why this occurred and, while it bothered him as an investigator, he knew these people were not actively lying to him.

What _did _bother him was people who had definitely not seen anything but were prepared to make something up so they felt important. These people, while rare, almost always ended up derailing an investigation with their lies. Even if he could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they could not possibly have seen anything, they would still insist they had.

He wasn't entirely sure why they did it. Part of him thought it was for attention, to feel important. He knew they managed to convince themselves that they had in fact seen such a thing, which was why it was so hard to persuade them otherwise.

He preferred witnesses who admitted they couldn't remember something rather than make something up. Why did people have to be so… human?


	4. Jun 4

_**Jun 4  
**_Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how… We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark.  
**Agnes de Mille (1909 - 1993)**

Abby Scuito groaned aloud as the power failed. Her babies would protest this treatment as soon as they woke up.

She hated power failures at work. They meant she could not carry out her important analyses, had difficult preparing her samples, and anything involving a computer was out the window. She had no back-up power, no matter how many times she had pleaded with the Director for it. And even when the power was restored, she could not return immediately to work as she would have to retrieve the samples she had been running and persuade her babies to work properly.

At home, she considered power cuts an adventure. There was something exciting about surviving for a few hours with no electricity. Finding ways around the little problems like no microwave, or occupying her time with something other than her computer or her television.

After waiting half a minute to see if the power would return, she sighed. Placing her current sample carefully on the table she knew to be in front of her (but could not see), she confidently made her way across her lab to her office. Despite the dark, she did not need lights to know her way. Perhaps she had been working here for too long.

She reached her desk with ease, smiling as she thought that anyone else with her would have bumped into anything and everything. Sliding open a drawer, her hand closed around the first three candles and her lighter. Time to illuminate her lab.


	5. Jun 5

_**Jun 5  
**_Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art.  
**Eleanor Roosevelt (1884 - 1962)**

"Excuse me, sir. Would you mind reaching the rose tea for me?"

Ducky turned towards the voice and was pleasantly surprised to see a beautiful woman, about his age. She had cropped white hair, a face that would not look out of place in a portrait, and dark red lipstick painted across her mouth.

He would not have refused such a polite request anyway, but coming from such a perfect creature it seemed criminal to walk away. Perhaps he should frequent this store more often.

"Of course, my dear," he replied. "The rose, did you say? I find that gives such a lovely fragrance as it cools before I drink it."

"It is extremely soothing," she smiled. "Even better than lavender."

He handed her the box, pleased to have met another connoisseur. "I don't know why everyone says lavender and lemon are the best," he mused aloud. "The smell of roses takes me back to my youth."

"Have you tried it with your own rose petals?" she inquired.

"Heavenly," he smiled. "It does feel like a waste of petals when I pick them from the flower, but the drink it produces is perfect."

"I really must give that a go," she declared.

"I'm Donald." He held out his hand in the hope she would shake it.

He wasn't disappointed. "Catherine."


	6. Jun 6

_**Jun 6  
**_Fresh clean sheets are one of life's small joys.  
**Takayuki Ikkaku, Arisa Hosaka and Toshihiro Kawabata**, _Animal Crossing: Wild World, 2005_

Tony DiNozzo knew that knocking on his partner's door close to midnight on a work night was not perhaps his best idea.

In fact, disturbing the Israeli at any time put him in danger. During the week, when they weren't at the Navy Yard, she preferred to be left alone. At the weekend, it was possible to show up out of the blue, but he still risked a flying projectile to his head.

However, this was an emergency and only she could help.

He raised his hand to knock again, only for Ziva to yank the door open while still on the chain. For a moment, he wondered if she expected him to slide through the narrow gap, but the sight of her in pajamas and tussled hair distracted him completely.

"Why are you here?" In spite of the sleep in her voice, she sounded just as threatening as ever.

"It's an emergency," he informed her, wondering if this would be easier in her sleepy state. "I don't have any clean sheets."

"Why?" she demanded.

Apparently this was going to be harder than he'd hoped. "I haven't got round to washing them."

"I work the same hours as you and have enough time," she pointed out.

"I'm lazy."

"I know."

"Does this mean you're going to let me in?"

"Perhaps."

He smiled at her, showing all his teeth. "If I have to ask Gibbs to take me for the night, I'll make sure to mention I came to you first."

She glared at him, somewhat spoiled by her heavy-eyed state, which he thought just made her adorable. But she closed the door and he heard the rattle of the chain.

Now if only he could persuade her to do his laundry…


	7. Jun 7

_**Jun 7  
**_Death comes to all  
But great achievements raise a monument  
Which shall endure until the sun grows old.  
**George Fabricius**, _'In Praise of Georgius Agricola'_

Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat on his back porch, mason glass of bourbon in hand, and watched as the sun began to slowly dip below the horizon.

This hadn't been his idea. The person responsible for his silence was sitting next to him, also watching the fiery orb move across the sky. The redhead had gently persuaded him that observing the final moments of the day would calm him more than sanding his boat for the same amount of time. And so he had followed her up the stairs and outside, after first making sure they both had enough bourbon.

Although he could not see his street, very few vehicles had passed along it. In his own silence, he could hear the birds as they began to settle down for the night. Their soft chirping brought a smile to his face.

The sky was filled with bright red rays. The few clouds that had been lingering overhead all afternoon had finally scurried away under this attack. A gentle breeze stirred the lighter branches of nearby trees, but the cold air across his face did not distract his attention from the exhibit in the sky above him.

As the flaming sphere dipped below the horizon, the redhead next to him leant over and caught his hand in hers. The action brought another smile to his face. He would remember this moment forever.


	8. Jun 8

_**Jun 8  
**_Gratitude is the most exquisite form of courtesy.  
**Jacques Maritain (1882 - 1973)**, _Reflections on America, 1958_

Timothy McGee ignored the beeping from one of Abby's precious babies and continued to pour over the book. Beside him, the Goth did exactly the same.

This was Ducky's doing. He had bought Abby a beautiful, old-fashioned book on manners. The pages were thick and crisp, while it somehow still retained that new book smell. The cover was a work of art in itself.

They were supposed to be tracing an email account for Gibbs, but it was taking more time than they had anticipated, and the current part of the search could run itself. Abby had retrieved the book from her desk and they were taking a well-deserved break to examine it.

So far, they had not been able to bring themselves to open it. Both were afraid it would break the magic spell that the object had woven over them. To open the cover and discover the delights hidden within could either strengthen or destroy the enchantment completely.

Across the lab, Major Mass Spec erupted in a ball of fury, but the two people did not notice. They were far too absorbed by tracing the intaglio letters on the front of the cover, reading the title with their fingers over and over. Nothing could spoil this moment for them.


	9. Jun 9

_**Jun 9  
**_A mind too active is no mind at all.  
**Theodore Roethke (1908 - 1963)**

"Tony! Sit down and work!"

Tony DiNozzo ignored the order of his partner, aware he was possibly courting pain, disaster and death, but completely unable to calm down. Today, he was more active than usual. He was fairly sure it wasn't connected to his caffeine consumption as he hadn't had more than normal, and he'd only had a little bit of sugar so far today.

He had simply woken up excited and never come back to earth.

And anyway, he was enjoying himself. Gibbs had been forced into attending a conference somewhere for the day, so he wasn't risking a headslap. He could dance around his desk for as long as he wanted.

A paperclip hit his left ear and he whirled around to glare at Ziva. "Not funny," he told her.

"You are distracting me," she informed him through gritted teeth.

"You are being a distraction," McCoward piped up from his desk. "Why don't you go and see Abby? I'm sure she'd be delighted to see you."

"But I want to stay here," he whined. "I'm working."

"You have not done a bit of work in the last two hours," Ziva pointed out.

"I have," he argued.

"Playing computer games does not count," she retorted.

Tony sighed. It was time to abandon the squad room before Ziva killed him. Abby would definitely be more accepting.


	10. Jun 10

_**Jun 10  
**__The miracles of nature do not seem miracles because they are so common. If no one had ever seen a flower, even a dandelion would be the most startling event in the world._

Jennifer Shepard usually kept the exact date of her birthday a closely guarded secret.

Unlike most people, she did not enjoy the overt giving of presents or the attention that was showered on her on such a day. She felt it was all a little fake and showy, and her true friends would take more time and care. So far today, Ziva had quietly appeared in her office with a new knife, and Gibbs had plonked a fresh bottle of her favorite bourbon on her desk and promptly disappeared.

There was one present she had definitely missed. On this day every year, she was always given a huge bouquet of lilies as a joke gift from a special someone. And so far today, the flowers had not appeared on her desk.

She left MTAC, having deliberately scheduled the conference for today to give people, including Gibbs who had surprisingly appeared in person, a chance to sneak into her office. Taking her time, she strolled across the catwalk to her office, wondering what, if anything, had been placed there in her absence.

She opened the door and automatically looked at her desk. It was oddly empty, except for a yellow dandelion placed in the exact centre of her work area. Confused, she made her way over and spotted the little note scrawled on her memo pad.

"Someone appears to have bought all the lilies in the tristate area, so I hope this will do."

It was unsigned, but Jenny did not need any further information to know who had given her this. It was perfect.


	11. Jun 11

_**Jun 11  
**_If you would know the value of money, go try to borrow some; for he that goes a-borrowing goes a-sorrowing.  
**Benjamin Franklin (1706 - 1790)**

"Ducky? May I disturb you for a moment?"

The doctor looked up from his work. Ziva stood in the doorway to Autopsy, watching as he stopped stitching up Corporal Davies and turned to her.

"You are not disturbing me," he informed her with a smile. "Come in, my dear."

She walked slowly, paying more attention to her surroundings than usual. "I have a slight problem," she admitted. "It appears I have misplaced my wallet."

"Misplaced?" he queried with a slight smile on his face.

She scowled. "It is impossible for someone to steal it from me, but I left my jacket unattended in the squad room this morning. I am relatively confident Tony has stolen it."

"Then why is he still alive, my dear?" he wondered.

"Because Gibbs has sent him to re-interview five witnesses and he will be gone for some time. I shall retrieve my wallet upon his return."

"Ah. Perhaps it is better for Anthony to be out of your way for the moment," Ducky decided. "How might I be of assistance in this matter?"

She seemed to squirm slightly under his gaze. "I need to borrow some money for lunch," she confessed.

"But of course!" He strode over to his desk, opening a drawer and retrieving his own stash of money. A brief thought hit him – Ziva clearly did not like the idea of charity, as she felt this was help she should not require. Perhaps…

"Why don't I take you out to lunch?" he suggested, smiling happily. "I know this fantastic new restaurant only a block away."


	12. Jun 12

_**Jun 12  
**_Engineering is not merely knowing and being knowledgeable, like a walking encyclopedia; engineering is not merely analysis; engineering is not merely the possession of the capacity to get elegant solutions to non-existent engineering problems; engineering is practicing the art of the organized forcing of technological change... Engineers operate at the interface between science and society...  
**Dean Gordon Brown**

Tony DiNozzo thought that whoever engineered the first office chair needed to be shot, to borrow a phrase from _el jefe_.

He was inordinately fond of chairs, especially given how much time he spent in them. At home, he could splash out on whatever chair he wanted, make sure it was absolutely perfect for his every need. He had several, much to Ziva's disgust, so that whatever the situation, he would be content.

Unfortunately, he could not bring his own chair to the office. Everyone had to put up with exactly the same drab colors and the high chance of them breaking at a bad moment (which was substantially higher when he and Ziva were in the middle of a prank war).

It wasn't without its good points. Whoever had ordered these particular chairs had chosen something softer than usual, which was also a bonus when he had to spend numerous hours chasing up leads for Gibbs while stuck in the office. The chairs swiveled, which was great when he wanted to throw something at Ziva and then duck behind it.

And they even had wheels, perfect for a rapid escape from McGee's desk if the elevator dinged while he was covering the keyboard in superglue.

His problem with the chairs was something fundamental. Something they were missing. Something no good chair could be without, which meant someone had seriously screwed up the design.

There was no cupholder.


	13. Jun 13

_**Jun 13  
**_I don't have pet peeves, I have whole kennels of irritation.  
**Whoopi Goldberg**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs glanced up as the elevator dinged, frowning when his bedraggled team staggered off it. Could they be more unprofessional?

He had only sent them to apprehend a suspect, not climb through the sewers. And judging by that unpleasant smell of rotting manure that was slowly but surely turning the stomachs of everyone in the squad room, they may well have actually done such a thing.

He glared at them as they came to a halt by Tony's desk. Tony saw his expression and tried to explain.

"He made a run for it, Boss."

"Straight into the sewage plant next door," Ziva added.

Gibbs thought this was beside the point. They were supposed to be NCIS agents, not FBI. Could they not manage to keep themselves clean while bringing in one lousy suspect? He was only Navy after all, not a Marine.

He sniffed the air experimentally, wondering how long it would take for the air to clear when the windows didn't open.

"We're going to use the biohazard showers," McGee announced.

"You're not biohazards," Gibbs pointed out, resisting the urge to add a 'yet'.

"But Boss!" Tony protested. "We need to get changed."

"It's only thirteen hundred," Gibbs answered, in a tone that made it clear this was not a debate. "You can wait until the end of the day."

What was the world coming to? He would have to work on their professionalism for the next few weeks. Work hours were not for washing in, and they should not have ended up that messy in the first place.


	14. Jun 14

_**Jun 14  
**_Why should I buy expensive art when I can make my own.  
**Piero Milani**

Ducky parked his Morgan with exquisite care, before stepping out and watching his passenger disembark.

For once, this had not been his idea, nor had he had to resort to persuasion and arm-twisting. Something or someone (Ducky suspected a certain redhead) had persuaded Jethro to attend an art class. Jethro, being Jethro, was reluctant to attend on his own, and Ducky had been happy to come along as well.

Truth be told, Jethro needed a little more culture in his life. He was extremely talented with woodwork, but perhaps it was time to step outside his comfort zone and try something new and different.

He observed his friend as he made his way to the sidewalk. Despite his outward demeanor, Jethro was clearly having second thoughts about this. He looked as though he was searching his mind for an excuse to leave or wishing he'd ordered Tony to call him and get him out of this mess.

"It's only sketching," Ducky reminded him gently. "You already know the basics; you sketch crime scenes for a living. And you're very good at observing the little things. You will find this much easier than I shall."

Jethro gave him a smile to thank him for the comfort. Ducky smiled to himself. Even if they both struggled with the class, at least they would struggle together.


	15. Jun 15

_**Jun 15  
**_Passion kept one fully in the present, so that time became a series of mutually exclusive 'nows.'  
**Sue Halpern**, _O Magazine, September 2003_

Abby Scuito danced around her lab, ignoring her silver haired fox who was looking on in amusement.

"I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait!" she chanted.

_El jefe_ simply gave her a look of mild bemusement and settled down on the chair she had given him. With Team Gibbs in the middle of a supposedly-secret prank war, Gibbs himself had decided to allow them to blow off a little steam, and was thus feigning ignorance by spending a little time with her.

Not that she would ever complain at company, given she spent so much time alone. It was nice to have someone to share her excitement with.

"There's a new Suicide Commando CD out next week," she informed him, as solemnly as she could while she was so excited. "And I can't wait."

"You're gonna have to, Abs," he reminded her.

"But it's such a big deal, Gibbs!" she protested. "They haven't released a new CD in a year. A whole year! And now I'm going to get thirteen more amazing songs."

He looked confused. "How many songs you got, Abs?"

"Thousands," she answered. "But that's not the point. These are new songs, really really good songs. I should let you listen to some of their old stuff."

He shook his head, missing the point completely.

Abby sighed. She would have to explain it again, but _slower_. In the meantime, "I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait!"


	16. Jun 16

_**Jun 16  
**_Gardens are not made by sitting in the shade.  
**Rudyard Kipling (1865 - 1936)**

Tony DiNozzo had never had green fingers.

Unless he counted the time Ziva had painted the tips of his fingers a lurid shade of lime green while he slept in the squad room.

But the day was warm and sunny, and he wanted to spend it outside with a friend. With Ziva still mad at him for stealing her takeout last night and McGee allergic to sunlight, he had found himself calling on Ducky.

The Scot had happily accepted Tony and asked if he wished to help in the garden. Unable to tell a weed from a rose, Tony had pointed out he might need a little supervision. Ducky had promptly put him to work.

So far, he had mowed the lawn, unfortunately without one of the mowers that he could sit on, but with one that involved effort and pushing around. Ducky had consoled him with the thought that the ladies preferred a man with a little bit of strength. Regrettably the only lady around was Mrs. Mallard, and he had been forced to keep his top on in spite of the heat to prevent her cat-calls and flirting.

"Hey Ducky," he grinned, flopping down on the nearest patch of grass to the doctor, who was busy with a flowerbed. It seemed at least one of them knew what weeds looked like. "What's next?"

Ducky smiled. "There's a rake in the shed to collect the grass," he answered. "You'll have impressive muscles by Monday."


	17. Jun 17

_**Jun 17  
**_Truth is the only safe ground to stand on.  
**Elizabeth Cady Stanton (1815 - 1902)**

Timothy McGee yelped as the ground gave way beneath him.

He was at a crime scene with his teammates, Gibbs having got the call about a dead marine on a golf course. Tony had spent the morning making inappropriate jokes about golf, until he had been headslapped. Palmer had spent the morning making inappropriate comments about the deceased.

Tim had been assigned his usual job of interviewing witnesses. Luckily for him, there had only been one and that had been the poor man who had discovered the victim in the sand bunker on the fourth hole by hitting his golf ball directly onto his chest. Understandably, he hadn't touched anything.

Unfortunately for Tim, Gibbs did not accept the completion of a task as an excuse for standing around and doing nothing, especially when they were at a crime scene. Anxious to stay out of trouble, Tim had decided to scout the area for any evidence that Tony might miss while he was sketching.

All he'd found for his trouble was a rabbit hole.

He tried to pull his leg out, only to receive shooting pains from his ankle for his actions. "Tony!" he yelled.

Gibbs reached his side first.

"Hey, Boss," Tim began, wondering how to explain this.

"Anything hurt?" Apparently Gibbs didn't care how he'd done this.

"My ankle."

"Can you get out?"

"I'll need a hand."

"Okay." Gibbs came closer and looped his arms under Tim's shoulders. "On three."


	18. Jun 18

_**Jun 18  
**_Circumstances rule men and not men rule circumstances.  
**Euripides (484 BC - 406 BC)**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs often wondered how his life would have turned out if Shannon and Kelly had lived.

He seriously doubted he would be in the Navy Yard, catching criminals. This current career change had occurred directly as a result of their deaths. He would probably still be a Marine, fighting for his country.

The first boat he had built might well have been his last. His initial plan had been to give it to Kelly, to encourage her to sail and explore the world (but only for as long as he was by her side). Now he made them to mark the passing of another ex-wife.

He certainly wouldn't have married so many times. Shannon had been the love of his life, before Kelly came along at least, and they had been through so much together he could not imagine leaving her. Since her death, he had married women who were nothing like her, women he could not love so they could not tarnish the spot she occupied inside his heart.

If they were still alive, he hoped their family would be bigger. A sibling or two for Kelly. Perhaps the puppy she had begged for shortly before her death. The cat that Shannon had wanted.

Things would have been very different for him if they had lived. But maybe they would be proud of his life now, and that was what mattered to him most.


	19. Jun 19

_**Jun 19  
**_Few men have virtue to withstand the highest bidder.  
**George Washington (1732 - 1799)**

"Zee-_vah_."

"No."

"I'll give you a hundred bucks."

"I am not interested."

"Come _on_."

Ziva David knew her partner could be annoyingly persistent, but she hoped one day he would learn that bribing her was not possible. If she wanted to do something, perhaps she would wait for him to offer her money so she could take it anyway, but he could not bribe her to do something she did not wish to do.

And she definitely did not wish to do _that_. Tony had had the suicidal idea to replace Gibbs' coffee with decaf. Despite her reminding him of Rule Twenty Three, he still seemed to think this was a stroke of genius.

"You do not think he can tell the difference?" she pointed out.

"Maybe we'll get lucky," he offered, shooting her a smile that worked on most people but she simply found irritating.

"Do it yourself then. I do not wish to die for something as stupid as this."

"It would look good on your headstone."

"Then let them put it on yours."

He scowled. "But he won't kill you. You're Jenny's pet assassin – he finds you too useful and she'd make him sleep on the couch."

She ignored his implication that Jenny and Gibbs were sleeping together. Tony didn't know about Michael then. "I am not going to do it."

"Chicken."

"Where?" She stood up and looked around the squad room.

Tony shook his head. "Never mind."


	20. Jun 20

_**Jun 20  
**_Man is the cruelest animal.  
**Friedrich Nietzsche (1844 - 1900)**

In his line of work, Ducky had ample opportunity to study the cruelties people inflicted on each other.

Whether it was physical or mental, people were capable of what appeared to be unlimited brutality towards members of the same species. Sometimes his guests had been tortured, beaten, starved, raped, mutilated… the list went on forever. Sometimes these guests appeared in his nightmares, begging him to help them. If it were possible, he worked harder on those cases.

Then there were the people who had been mentally abused. Convinced they were worthless, or had their children taken away by a vindictive parent, or exposed to repeated acts of violence and had simply given up. These hurt him more, especially if the victim was still alive. While physical scars faded, mental ones lasted forever.

But perhaps there was hope. While people seemed drawn to the cruelties that were reported to them, possibly by a morbid fascination, they were still capable of being shocked. Anything involving child abuse was guaranteed to draw a screaming mob of people demanding the abuser be put to death. The most vicious attacks were reported in detail in the media, and consumers lapped it up while simultaneously protesting against such horrors.

While people could still be shocked, while they could still organize protests and picket court cases, there was hope yet for the human race. Somewhere out there was still a well-developed sense of right and wrong. And there were enough people who demanded justice for the cruelties that it seemed hard to believe they would ever knowingly allow such abuse to take place.


	21. Jun 21

_**Jun 21  
**_Always hold your head up, but be careful to keep your nose at a friendly level.  
**Max L. Forman**

Timothy McGee tried his best to keep his nose in the air as he walked through the sewer. What was it with sewers and crime scenes? When would people learn that disposing of a bloody knife down a sewer meant someone would be dispatched to locate it?

It was his turn down the sewer after Tony had done the last one. Their suspect had confessed to murder after half an hour of Gibbs staring at him in silence in Interrogation, and had admitted to throwing the murder weapon down a drain. After Tim had checked the drain, ruining his new shirt in the process, he had recalled the huge storm last night and realized it had probably been swept out to the larger sewers.

The smell was horrific. He couldn't think of a way to describe it, other than the odor of a burst septic tank perhaps. As he hadn't anticipated wandering through the sewers and searching through gunk for a single knife, he had eaten a large lunch, which he was now regretting.

He groaned as he saw the next pile of goop he would have to hunt through. He was running out of wooden sticks with which to move everything about without getting anything on his fingers. At least it would be Ziva's turn next time.


	22. Jun 22

_**Jun 22  
**_Men will often admit other women are oppressed but not you.  
**Sheila Rowbotham**

Jennifer Shepard was not in a good mood. Scratch that – it barely covered the surface of how pissed off she was.

She stormed up and down her office, venting her ire to the person who had been chosen to deliver the bad news. She briefly thought Gibbs must have been chosen as she was less likely to shoot him or he could potentially overpower her, but she lost her train of thought. She was too mad.

"I can take care of myself!" she yelled. "I do not need an addition to my security detail. My freedoms are curtailed enough as it is."

"You keep slipping them," Gibbs pointed out, completely calm as though she was not resisting the urge to kill him with her bare hands.

"You try being followed everywhere for every minute of the day!"

"It's for your own good."

That argument hadn't worked when she was four and refused to eat her vegetables. "Has everyone forgotten I used to be a damn fine field agent? Ziva was my partner for a few years – trust me, I picked up a few things. I can take care of myself."

"You're taking the extra man, Director," he informed her.

"I don't need him."

"Take it up with SecNav."

She glared at him. Maybe she would. Until then, she was going to keep expressing her displeasure to her old partner.


	23. Jun 23

_**Jun 23  
**_Never regret. If it's good, it's wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience.  
**Victoria Holt**

Abby Scuito regretted very little in her life. What was the use in living a life full of regrets when you couldn't actually change any of it? Far better to enjoy what was happening now and think of the present and future rather than live in the past.

The things she did regret, she made sure she learnt from. After all, there was no point in going through an unpleasant experience only to repeat it again later in her life because she had not picked anything up from the first time.

She did not regret her relationship with Timmy. He was extremely sweet and courteous, but he wasn't really her type. She liked an air of danger to surround a man, even if it did occasionally lead to her gaining a stalker. He wanted to talk openly about his feelings, something she struggled with.

But she was glad it had happened. They were now firm friends, able to be more open with each other than they would have been otherwise. They were close and shared secrets they wouldn't with anyone else. She encouraged him to step outside his comfort zone, and he kept her sane when she tried to work herself into an early grave. She adored him and he adored her, and that was enough for her.


	24. Jun 24

_**Jun 24  
**_I'm not dumb. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information.  
**Bill Watterson (1958 - )**, _"Calvin", It's a Magical World_

"Yes!" Tony DiNozzo began his victory dance around the squad room.

"Oh for the love of everything," McGee muttered under his breath.

"Bite your tongue!" Tony demanded. "I won fair and square."

"Why do you want McGee to bite his tongue?" Ziva inquired. "I do not wish him to hurt himself. You did not mention a forfeit for this game. Does this mean we are all supposed to bite our tongues?"

"No," Abby piped up before Tony could take advantage of this. "It means Tony wants Timmy to be quiet."

"Tony is the one making the most noise," Ziva argued.

"This is not fair," the Probie grumbled. "You're an idiot at the best of times. How is it possible for you to win a trivia game?"

"I am the master of useless information," Tony crowed. "I won."

"Good thing we didn't bet on the outcome," Abby murmured. "I would have bet on Timmy."

"I thought you would win," Ziva commented. "You know a lot of useful pieces of information."

"Whereas Tony just knows the really random useless stuff," McGee added.

Tony ignored their slurs on his intelligence and continued his dance. He had won, he had won. He would be rubbing this in their faces for days.

He froze as he crashed into Gibbs. The boss glared at him for almost spilling his coffee. "I'm going to sit down, Boss," he declared, his triumph fading away.


	25. Jun 25

_**Jun 25  
**_Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.  
**Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)**, _The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891_

Timothy McGee glanced up as his boss stalked into the ER, almost instantly spotting his injured agent and dodging the passing medical personnel to reach his side.

"Sorry, Boss," Tim greeted him. "They insisted on calling someone as I banged my head when I hit the ground and they're worried about a concussion."

Gibbs looked him up and down, poked at the cast now covering his right arm, and gave him a look to say '_What the hell happened_.'

"You see, Boss, it's like this," Tim began. "Abby's had a bad week and I wanted to cheer her up, so I went to Rock Creek Park to pick her some flowers. I thought she'd appreciate a handpicked bouquet."

Gibbs nodded his agreement, turning to glare at a doctor who scurried past and brushed against his back.

"I was looking too much at the flowers and I missed a rotten log in my path. I sort of tripped over it, put my arm out to break my fall, and ended up breaking my arm."

The older man poked the cast again as if to check he wasn't hallucinating it, and then prodded Tim's head a lot more gently.

"It's a mild break," Tim informed him. "And they said you could never be too careful with a head injury."

The ex-marine gave him a good look up and down, as though he was hiding an injury or the doctors had missed it. Then, apparently satisfied, he nodded again.

"I'm ready to go, Boss." Tim didn't need to hear the question to know it had been asked.

Gibbs helped pull him up and they headed for the doors together.


	26. Jun 26

_**Jun 26  
**_To win without risk is to triumph without glory.  
**Pierre Corneille (1606 - 1684)**, _'The Cid,' 1636_

Ziva David enjoyed card games. They reminded her of her childhood, when she would play against her father, or Ari or Tali. They made her think of cozy nights in, when everyone was alive and laughing.

Poker was her favorite. She could keep her face completely blank, devoid of all emotion. She had had plenty of practice after all. And she could read other people's body language like a book. After all, she had to do so to stay alive.

It helped that she was good with cards in another way. Being able to pick people's pockets helped her to transfer those skills to manipulate the cards. If she wished, she could make sure she had a good hand and her opponent had an awful one.

But she refused to cheat at cards. She could, very easily, but she chose not to. It was far more fun to play the hand she had been dealt, to use her other skills to decide what to do. To cheat would make the game too easy. She enjoyed the risk of losing; she was determined to win. The risk drew her back to the game, again and again.

She smiled as Abby dealt the cards for the next round, observing her opponent carefully. She would win this without cheating. The greater the risk, the greater the reward.


	27. Jun 27

_**Jun 27  
**_Acceptance is such an important commodity, some have called it "the first law of personal growth."  
**Peter McWilliams**, _Life 101_

Jennifer Shepard stepped off the elevator, her stomach full of butterflies.

She told herself to get a grip – she was the Director for heaven's sake! And not just _a_ Director, but the first female Director of an armed federal agency. She could handle this. She _would_ handle this without any problems.

It didn't help that she and Abby had got off on the wrong foot. Unfortunately, Jethro hadn't warned her to leave the Goth alone as she was perfectly fine the way things were and it never did to upset the forensic scientist. But an attempt to show her authority in her first week and demonstrate she wasn't a pushover to the more chauvinistic agents in the Navy Yard had backfired when it came to Abby.

This was Jethro's favorite. She couldn't be scary – not that she'd be a pushover as Jethro preferred people who challenged him, but if she could handle Jethro, she could handle Abby.

Right?

She knocked on the open door to alert Abby to her presence. Somehow, the Goth heard her over the music. Jenny made a mental note to let Abby keep that the way she wanted while the scientist rapidly turned it down.

"Director?"

Better than 'Madame Director' she supposed. "I just thought I'd check that everything's okay down here," she smiled gently.

"Erm, yeah, fine. I could do with some new equipment if you've got room in the budget." Abby looked more nervous than Jenny felt.

She came further into the room, pressing her luck a little. "Why don't you tell me what you need and I'll see what I can do?"


	28. Jun 28

_**Jun 28  
**_Man perfected by society is the best of all animals; he is the most terrible of all when he lives without law, and without justice.  
**Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC)**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs understood why some people felt driven to taking the law into their own hands.

On one hand, he disapproved of vigilantism. There were far too many instants when people ended up attacking or even killing the wrong person, or ended up getting the whole situation back to front. Most people simply couldn't investigate like law enforcement could, and if everyone enforced the law as they saw fit, it would be anarchy. Far better to leave it to the professionals.

But he also understood that sometimes the law could not provide justice for people. If a killer crossed the border into another country, for example, or it was impossible to prosecute an individual for whatever reason. Then, and only then, was he more comfortable with someone achieving justice their way.

Perhaps it was because he had walked in the shoes of those who could not get justice in the law-abiding way. Perhaps it was because he knew exactly what it felt like to know the law was powerless to act when justice was needed so badly. Perhaps it was because he had felt the beginnings of closure when he had achieved his own justice.

There was a time to break every law. And to achieve justice was a very good reason.


	29. Jun 29

_**Jun 29  
**_Science is one thing, wisdom is another. Science is an edged tool, with which men play like children, and cut their own fingers.  
**Sir Arthur Eddington (1882 - 1944)**, _Attributed in Robert L. Weber "More Random Walks in Science", 1982_

Abby Scuito yelped as she nicked her index finger with the scalpel.

This was not good. Especially as Bert required emergency surgery due to his stitches working loose, and she couldn't very well bleed all over him. It would be very unsanitary.

She placed her injured finger in her mouth, sucking the wound despite knowing it actually did not make any difference. Across the lab, Ziva had already found the first aid box.

"Is it bad?" the Israeli inquired, coming to her side.

Abby wasn't sure how to answer that one. Considering Ziva had almost certainly seen people wandering around with a few missing limbs, she didn't think a cut finger would be classified as 'bad'. Instead, she took her finger out of her mouth and showed it to her friend.

"Oh," Ziva cooed sympathetically. "That looks as though it hurts. But no stitches needed, which is always a good start. I am thinking an alcohol wipe and a band aid."

"Ethanol's over there." Abby jerked her head in the direction of her usual supply. "I always end up cutting myself. And not just with the scalpel; I was changing my graphics card last week and cut myself on an edge."

Ziva retrieved the ethanol. "That must have hurt. While you ask Gibbs to kiss it better, I shall finish sowing up Bert."


	30. Jun 30

_**Jun 30  
**_The future is no place to place your better days.  
**Dave Matthews**, _"Cry Freedom"_

Timothy McGee was a careful planner. Unlike Tony, he believed in planning for the future. Perhaps sometimes it was better to live every day as though it was his last, but at some point he had to take responsibility and do some planning if he wished to get something.

He was relatively confident Tony had no plan for his retirement, other than whatever the federal government put aside for him every month. Tim, on the other hand, carefully put aside some of his own money every month, and made sure it was in a safe but profitable account. He kept an eye on the latest interest rates and was ready to switch whenever he found a better deal.

He was not entirely sure what he would do when he retired. He almost couldn't imagine the day. In his head, Gibbs would always been 'boss', and he would always work with Tony and Ziva. Abby would never leave her precious lab behind nor her friends, and Ducky seemed to have been working in Autopsy forever.

Whatever he would do, it helped if he had enough money to do it. He could always decide nearer the time, or perhaps then he would live for the day as Tony did. Until then, he needed to bide his time and keep an eye on his savings.


End file.
